Denial with Ribs

Posted on Fri Oct 30th, 2026 @ 3:39pm by Commander Nith & Ensign Keith Vail & EMH Mark IX - "Nina"

906 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Frozen Acquisition
Location: Sickbay
Timeline: current

Keith dumped his duffel in his quarters and hobbled to sickbay, each step a little love letter from Sovok’s boot to his ribs. Part of the welcome package was a mandatory medical once-over. The place was emptier than a Klingon’s sense of humor. Not a nurse, not an orderly, not even one of those guys who just pushes the mop and looks judgmental.

He sighed. Of course. That meant dealing with the Emergency Medical Hologram. The last time he’d seen one of those he was nine, and the program had been a balding know-it-all with the charm of a constipated targ. He wasn't looking forward to another round with that smug pixelated face.

“Computer,” he grumbled. “Activate the Emergency Medical Hologram.”

Light shimmered into the shape of a person. But instead of Dr. Grumpy-pants, it was a young woman with hair the color of a supernova and a smile that could probably power impulse engines. She wore a Starfleet uniform that looked like it’d been painted on by someone with a very specific appreciation for anatomy.

“Whoa,” Keith said.

“Whoa?” she repeated, one eyebrow arching. “I’m guessing you’re not actively hemorrhaging. So… spill. What’s the ‘whoa’ for? Wait—never mind.” She waved a hand. “I just pulled your file from Deep Space Nine. Lovely Bajoran corporal wrote you up. Said you were polite, punctual, and have a thing for pointy-eared logicians. Sit. Ribs, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, lowering himself onto the biobed with a sound like rusty machinery. “He got me pretty good. Though honestly? My heart hurts worse. The report mention his sister?”

“Mentioned he had one,” the EMH, Nina, according to her shimmering collar pips, said as she tugged his shirt over his head. “And that you were tumbling down a gravitational well of infatuation for her.” She ran a scanner over the spectacular purple bruising along his side.

“She was beautiful,” Keith murmured as she pressed a hypospray against his skin. A cool rush flooded the ache away. “And she actually liked me back.”

“Well, lucky for your tender human heart,” Nina chirped, “we have no less than four single Vulcan females aboard this vessel. You’re all going to be trapped in this metal can together for years.” Her bright green eyes went comically wide. “Play this right and you’ll be explaining to some very confused Vulcan parents how you located an actual emotion buried under all that stoicism.” She passed a bone-knitter over his ribs; it hummed like an annoyed bee. “There! Good as new. Now, full disclosure… one of them is due for Pon Farr any day now. I can’t tell you who because patient confidentiality, it’s a whole thing… but I could drop a hint that you’re… willing to perform a civic duty.”

“Whoa, wait, no,” Keith said, pulling his shirt back on hastily. “I don’t just want to be some… some biological necessity.” He searched her holographic face for understanding but found only polite programming.

“Please elaborate,” she prompted.

Keith was about to talk but he didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, sure,” Nina said, her eyes rolling so hard it looked like she was trying to read the fine print on her own optic nerves. “They all say that, don’t they? Look, Ensign Vail, I’m a doctor, not a psychologist. Though, full disclosure, I’m also just a very sophisticated bundle of ones and zeroes with impeccable bedside manner. You don’t have to stand there babbling about collecting Vulcan Love-Slave holonovels for their ‘artistic merit.’ You’re a squishy bag of hormones and questionable decisions wrapped in a Starfleet uniform.” She leaned in and tapped his forehead three times with a finger that felt suspiciously solid for something made of light. “Somewhere in that mess, your brain decided what you really want comes with pointy ears and a raised eyebrow.”

“You know what holodeck chips I have?” Keith yelled this time, his voice cracking like a teenager’s.

Nina snorted. “No! But I sure as hell do now!” Her snort bloomed into a full-blown cackle. “You like Vulcans! It’s adorable! But you’re not gonna charm one by pretending you don’t have feelings. That’s like trying to seduce a rock by being rockier.”

“What Vulcans actually hate,” Keith said, his face as expressive as a brick, “are people who ignore logic and wallow in emotional soup.” He shrugged back into his jacket. “And I thought you said you were a doctor, not a psychologist.”

“Well, if your mind’s made up, who am I to get in the way with facts?” Nina said. “But seriously, make up your mind before sixteen-hundred hours or I can’t suggest you to the mystery Vulcan.”

“What if she’s ugly?” Keith blurted.

Nina folded her arms. “Have you ever seen an ugly Vulcan? They’re like supermodels with pointy ears and better posture. They don’t do ugly.”

Keith opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Okay, but what if she’s… not smart? Or…”

“Stop talking,” Nina cut in, picking up a PaDD. “I’m putting your name on the list. Oh look—it’s a very short list. It says ‘Keith.’” She tossed the PaDD onto the desk. “Computer, do the thing!”

She vanished. Keith stared at the empty space where she’d been, his mouth still open.

 

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